


Never a Good Time (The Similarities Remix)

by laireshi



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: AI Tony, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Getting Together, M/M, Remix, post-Hydra Cap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Steve will always know Tony Stark, artificial intelligence or no. He will always love him, too.





	Never a Good Time (The Similarities Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izazov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Mirror Images](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169692) by [izazov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov). 



> Be sure to check out the fic I remixed, it's great!
> 
> With big thanks to Comicsohwhyohwhy for the beta!

The evil, wrong, twisted counterpart of Steve accused Tony of drinking, killed their friends, and levelled Las Vegas, but the thing Tony hates him for the most is what he’s done to the real Steve. How people don’t trust him now because of sins he hasn’t committed, and how he doubts himself. Steve’s Tony’s rudder. Seeing him this unsettled, worried, blaming himself—it’s all _wrong_. And Tony’s not sure he can set it right.

He damn well is going to try, though.

“It wasn’t you,” Tony says.

Steve argues, of course. They never quite agree on anything anymore, haven’t for ages, but this is important.

“I remember everything,” Steve says finally. “I don’t know how to make it right, Tony.”

And Tony suddenly gets an idea.

“I’m not him,” he says.

Steve blinks at him. “ _What_?”

“Everyone keeps calling me Tony and I am referring to myself as Tony, but I’m not Tony Stark. Not really. I have his memories, yes, but I’m not him. My choices are mine, not his.”

Steve sighs. “I see your point, but this really isn’t something you can compare.”

 _If I weren’t Tony_ , Tony thinks, _I could . . ._

He reaches out before the thought fully forms in his mind, his gauntleted hand touching Steve’s face, near his lip. In this moment more than at any other time, Tony wishes he had a body still, that he could _feel_ Steve’s skin under his fingertips, his breath ghosting over Tony’s hand.

Steve swallows, but he makes no move to step away. His eyes grow dark.

Tony wants to kiss him and can’t.

“The main difference between us,” Tony says, “between me and your evil twin . . .”

Steve’s eyes flash with something _dangerous_. “The _main_ difference is that you’re a good man, Tony.”

Tony’s lips twist in an unamused smile. He runs his finger over Steve’s cheek. “You always see the best in people. But no. The main difference is that _he_ didn’t give a damn about fucking up your life.”

And everyone else’s.

“But _I_ do. And I’ll leave that to the real Tony.”

He steps away. It’s an impossible task. It feels like he’s going against his own coding, like he has to recompile something integral to him before he can move away from Steve.

“And if you’re looking for a good man—look in the mirror, Steve. You’re the best this world has.”

He takes off before Steve can answer. The conversation grew _too_ heavy. He can’t—he’d do something stupid if he stayed.

But as he flies home, he can’t shake off an uneasy feeling.

He lied to Steve. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. But it might be the first time when he _could’ve_ told the truth, and he didn’t. 

He should’ve told him the truth.

The worst part is, deep down Tony knows why he didn’t: because he’s a coward. Because telling the truth would uncover too much about himself. Because he’s not sure if he’s ready for that. Because he’s made of pure data now, and somehow everything was easier when he had a body to help him process emotions, too.

(He loves Steve; that’s about the only thing he’s certain of anymore.)

He thinks of his own body, closed in a Starktech pod, comatose. He can’t open it, but he knows the protocols that’ll trigger when his body wakes. 

He shouldn’t have lied to Steve.

But seeing Steve so guilty, so broken, by the actions of another man—actions that Steve had _nothing to do with_? Tony had to say something. He should’ve stuck to the truth though. Steve’s innocent here. That’s all that matters.

And there were other ways of convincing him so than claiming he’s not Tony Stark.

He doesn’t _like_ being Tony Stark, and he’s self-aware enough that’s the best proof that he’s himself; plain and easy.

Still; if Steve believed him, if Steve will stop blaming himself . . . It’ll be worth it.

***

Tony isn’t surprised that when he returns to his lab, Steve’s already there. He’s an AI; just because he’s flying the armour doesn’t mean he’s not following what’s going on in his lab and a dozen different places.

He could’ve materialised the moment Steve came in, but instead he opted to wait. Steve’s used to dealing with a corporeal him, after all.

So it’s only now when he lands in his workshop and orders the armour to disassemble that he says, “Steve.”

Steve turns to him, looking uncertain. “I wasn’t sure what to expect,” he says, gesticulating at the lab. “But it looks the same.”

Tony looks at him, his body just a hologram. “Because I said I wasn’t Tony,” he says.

“Yeah.” Steve looks away. “And you—don’t really need it, do you?”

Tony shakes his head. He waves his finger at Steve, and as he does so, a new gauntlet surrounds them, this one with no installed weaponry. “I do need _something_ to interact with the world, though.”

“Ah.” Steve looks at him a while longer, doesn’t turn his eyes away from Tony’s currently blue features. “Look, what you said at the roof . . .”

Tony raises an eyebrow. He lied, yes. He didn’t expect Steve to pick it up.

Steve gesticulates between them. “Why do you think _this_ would mean fucking up Tony’s life?”

There’s no mistaking what he means. And Tony has to come clear to truly explain.

He sighs.

“I lied, Steve,” he says.

Steve tenses. Tony can’t bring himself to look at his face. He’s broken his trust so many times already. He doesn’t let himself look through any of the security cameras in the workshop that face Steve, either.

“When I said I wasn’t Tony Stark,” Tony continues. “I am Tony.”

Steve chuckles sadly. “I know.”

Tony frowns.

“I’ll always know you, Tony.” Steve shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “I know what you were doing, though, so I went with it. I _want_ to believe that what he did—that it wasn’t my fault. So I let myself listen to you, just for a while.”

“It’s _not_ your fault,” Tony insists sharply. 

“No one else argues with me quite like Tony Stark,” Steve says. “But you’re avoiding the question again.”

“I’m not,” Tony says. “I—it was easier talking to you if I pretended this wasn’t the real me. Less consequences.”

Steve stands very very still.

“Less problems,” Tony continues. 

“Tony—”

“You know us, Steve. Tell me; if we try this—do you really believe we won’t destroy each other?”

Steve’s voice is suddenly like steel; none of his self-doubt there. “We hurt each other so many times, _on purpose_ , and we’re still standing. I doubt we can destroy each other when we’re trying to work—to be together.”

Tony almost smiles at that. “Optimistic, Steve.” He looks at him. “If I pretended I wasn’t Tony, I didn’t have to face these question.”

“But you are. And I’m asking.”

Tony walks to Steve, his hologram moving as if it were a real body. But when he’s standing just in front of him, Tony reaches towards him, just as he did before. Steve leans into him; Tony’s not sure if it’s conscious.

But he’s using the hand with no gauntlet on it, and his hand goes straight through Steve’s body, incorporeal. _Unreal_.

“I love you, Steve,” Tony says. His brains is made of code. He doesn’t have to force words through a throat tight with emotion. “I can’t even touch you.”

“Do you think that matters to me?” Steve asks, annoyed. Tony likes it. It’s better than his gloomy mood earlier, when Tony learnt he went to meet his evil counterpart. 

“Steve . . .”

“Even if you _weren’t_ the real Tony,” Steve says. “This isn’t _fucking it up_. This is _fixing things_. Things we should’ve fixed years ago.”

“I can make myself feel drunk,” Tony lets out. “I feel—I don’t know. I never let myself _think_ about us, not really. But I always had a body. This isn’t . . .” _Normal_ , he thinks, but doesn’t say.

Steve’s fingers find his gauntleted hand. He squeezes it, as if he were holding a real flesh-and-blood hand. “Your body is comatose, Tony, and yet you’re here. With me. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“I know what he said over my body,” Tony says finally. He feels almost as if he can breathe easier for finally admitting it, but of course that’s an illusion. He doesn’t breathe. But he _does_ feel better, because fighting someone who had Steve’s face and Steve’s memories had almost killed Tony anyway, and that confession only made things worse. And then, it was like he was lying to Steve every time he saw him and didn’t tell him what he knew. But now it’s here, in the open, at last.

Steve looks calm. “It’s not really a mystery, is it.” Something dark shows on his face, just for a second. “I do hate you heard it from him, though.”

“Tell me then,” Tony challenges.

“I love you, Tony Stark,” Steve says, his fingers still tangled with Tony’s gauntleted ones. “All of you. Always.”

Tony feels like his processes freeze to a halt, like he can’t execute a single line of code anymore. This moment, here, is everything.

“ _We_ won’t fuck it up,” Steve says. “Because it’s _us_. _Together_. And that’s a good thing, Tony.”

“Is it?”

“You’re very good at self-sabotage, I’ll give you that.” Steve smirks at him.

“Understatement of the century,” Tony mutters.

“And I don’t deserve you,” Steve continues. “Not after—”

Tony wishes he could cover Steve’s mouth with his hand. “None of that,” he says again, right over Steve’s words. 

Steve nods, very slowly. “Okay. I’ll work on moving on. And you’ll work on believing in us.”

Tony looks at their joined hands; Steve’s human’s hand and Iron Man’s metallic gauntlet. “You can’t seal that with a kiss,” he says.

“And I don’t need to,” Steve answers. “I just need your word.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Okay.”

Maybe Steve’s right. Maybe they should try this, now, under the worst circumstances possible. Maybe that’s how they move forward, at last.

“Good,” Steve says. “Good.”

And it is.


End file.
